


Seventy Years

by xandylex



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Angst, F/F, Fluff, Heavy Angst, Post-Canon, Rating May Change, Redemption, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-19
Updated: 2017-02-02
Packaged: 2018-09-18 13:46:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9387830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xandylex/pseuds/xandylex
Summary: Set a year post-canon. After Dottie took the chance and escaped when the priority was getting Ana to the hospital, it didn't take Peggy very long to find her and get her back to her cell. However, for the next year, Peggy often visits Dottie to get her intel on different cases as S.H.I.E.L.D. is still in its baby shoes. But then, one day, Peggy comes back with an offer — and it's an offer that could change everything.





	1. An Offer

**Author's Note:**

> First work I'm posting here and also the first multi-chapter fic I am writing in years! Still, I'm very excited to get this off the ground in fic-form, and I'm really hoping you  
> guys will enjoy what I'm putting together here.
> 
> A massive thank you goes to my amazing beta reader Rita, without whom I probably would have never actually started writing this fic.
> 
> That being said, this is definitely going to head into the romantic direction, however it will most likely progress very slowly, just so you know. The rating of the fic might change as the story progresses. There will also be some major angst involved, so you've been warned ;)
> 
> ENJOY.

The sound of heels clicking on the floor could be heard all the way through a dark, grey corridor, echoing from stone walls as they made their way towards their destination, just like they had several times a month for the past year. Not frequently enough to be called weekly, yet often enough to say that it had become a regular occurrence; just like the grating sound coming from the opening of the heavy door separating the corridor from Dorothy Underwood’s cell. Even after Dottie had run when she had gotten the chance in a moment of weakness, when Edwin Jarvis’ wife Ana had become the priority, Peggy had soon after managed to once again catch her and take her back to her cell — with immense difficulty, that much was for sure, and definitely not the way Peggy had planned for it to go. But when did things with Dottie Underwood ever go the way the Englishwoman planned them?

The S.S.R. had long been disbanded, replaced by something bigger, something with deeper purpose and deeper meaning, it’s successor being something Peggy herself had helped funding and found deep pride in. Organized to protect the people, the _Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division_ was now the place that kept her occupied seven days a week. The organization, however, was still in its early stages, still unsteady, yet with great potential to grow. And with her old friend Howard Stark and the former director of the S.S.R., Chester Phillips, by her side, she had great confidence that the values the organization held would be something even Steve Rogers would be proud of. But to keep the people safe, sacrifices had to be made, alliances had to be formed, even when the other party of said alliances was unlikely and highly dangerous.

“Peggy, it’s you! Did you miss me?”

Oh, there was that insufferable smirk from the Russian every time she walked in. It definitely was something to keep her on her toes. That, however, was something she would keep to herself, knowing fully well that if the other woman ever even got the slightest hint of that knowledge, there was no way she would ever hear the end of it.

Admittedly, Peggy’s surprise at the resilience that radiated from the woman, even after a year in custody, made her wonder how long Dottie Underwood would be able to withstand all this, locked away in a tiny cell, the only real human contact she got being when she was served meals or when a few times a month it was Peggy entering this cell. Really, the only thing that had changed about her was her hair, her natural strawberry-blonde color slowly taking over, growing out at the roots and staying dark at the ends, leaving the Russian currently with hair that had everything _but_ a single color. Not that the woman actually ever admitted that it particularly bothered her. A remark here and there or an eye-roll every now and then when Peggy mentioned it was the only indicator that she wasn’t too fond of that particular development. Other than that, there really hadn’t been much change to her behavior or the way she acted towards Peggy. But should she really be surprised? With everything she had seen when she had been to Russia just before they had found out who Dottie really was, she could only guess the things she had went through before she had come to America.

“Far from it. You and I both know it’s necessary I keep an eye on you,” she stated simply.  
“Oh, Peg — you and I both know it’s not necessary for you _personally_ to keep an eye on me.”

 _Touché._ The challenge in the Russian’s eyes was clear, and it melted into a certain amusement that was shimmering in the blue of her eyes; and combined with the smirk tugging at the corners of her lips that made an explosive mixture.

“Now, if I knew you behaved if I sent someone else, I might do that, but seeing as I am the only one who knows you this well, I find it to be the best solution to come by myself,” she finally responded, arms crossing in front of her chest, the description of the file in her hand turned towards herself, making it impossible for the woman sitting in front of her to catch a glimpse of it. And yet Peggy noticed the way she glanced at it, curiosity clear in her eyes.

It wasn’t the first time Peggy had walked into the woman’s cell with a file in her hand. Month after month, she had realized that the woman she had so long seen as one of her greatest enemies had some valuable information stored in that pretty head of hers; valuable enough for Peggy to come back and make use of it when she could. Without a doubt, every single thing Dottie had told her about possibilities in cases had always turned out to be a hundred percent correct, even after Peggy had double checked every word said at least five times, just to make sure. It wasn’t something she shared with her, even when she had asked if the provided information had her gotten somewhere. Yet even without a clear response, Peggy knew that Dottie was completely aware of how much value her information was, the smugness only rising with each time Peggy had come back. Admittedly, the Englishwoman wasn’t sure if she was just getting a thrill out of this or what her reasoning was behind helping her, but if it was helping her solving cases, especially in the early stages of this organization, she wasn’t about to complain.

“And here I thought we were friends.” The faux pout on the Russian’s lips was quickly replaced by a tilt of her head, eyeing the Englishwoman, whose upright posture made it clear who was the superior of the two. A hum fell from full, red painted lips.  
“ _Friends_ isn’t quite the word I’d use.” There was something about the woman sitting in front of Peggy, something that intrigued her. Maybe it was the way she handled the situation, maybe it were those incredibly inappropriate comments falling from the woman’s lips whenever there was even the slightest chance for her to slip them in. Peggy knew she was good. Her training had been hard, it had been cruel. It had been everything but gentle, but it had made her incredibly powerful and skilled, exactly the kind of thing Peggy could use for her new organization. And with the way she had helped her with a few previous cases, not quite figuring out that one of the reasons Peggy asked for her help on them being to test out her capability even behind these walls, she had proven to the Englishwoman that she was exactly what she needed.

“What’s that?” Peggy heard her ask, noticing how curious blue eyes were fixed on the folder she held in her hand, and a small amused smile curled the corners of her lips slightly upwards as she held it a little closer towards herself. Not that it had been possible for the other woman to sneak a peek at it in the first place, but perhaps, in a way, it was Peggy’s subtle way of showing that she was the one in control in this conversation. Still, she could see the starved look in the woman’s eyes, hungry for something to do, a desperate lioness so close to being thrown a bite of her prey, yet still so far away from it. She was aware, Dottie’s facade slipping from time to time in front of her, that this was the only excitement the Russian really got, and her willingness to be useful or at least have something more exciting to do was another useful tool, as long as she kept the woman interested.

“It’s a bit… _grey_ in here, wouldn’t you agree?” she began, completely ignoring the woman’s question as brown eyes wandered around the cell, the clicking of her heels once more echoing from the walls as she took a few steps around the small room. No decorations, no pictures, no personal touches. She couldn’t say she was surprised, it was neither like those trained Russian girls had a lot of possessions in the first place, nor would anyone here take the risk of giving Dottie any unnecessary objects that she could, without a flicker of doubt, turn into a weapon. She glanced back at Dottie, whose annoyance was written all over her features, almost getting a laugh out of the Englishwoman. It was obvious to her, that Dottie didn’t appreciate her not giving her an answer to her question, but for now she had to be patient, and that’s exactly what Peggy would show her.

“I’m surprised you haven’t asked for some sort of decoration, after all you’ve been here for quite some time. Then again, perhaps you’re not really in too many people’s good graces to receive such a thing, and knowing you and your pride, you’d rather die than ask me for anything of the kind,” she stated, seeing the woman’s jaw clench slightly and shifting just the smallest bit to the side, a clear indicator that Peggy was on the right track.

She heard the hum falling from the Russian’s lips after a short pause, knowing her well enough by now to know that the next thing coming from her would be an attempt of getting the conversation flowing the way she wanted it to. And she was correct.

“Maybe I didn’t think it would be necessary; maybe the plan escape from this little hole you put me in is forming in a way that makes me sure I don’t need any kind of decoration for the foreseeable future,” she smirked.  
“Doubtful,” Peggy mused in return. “If you had, you wouldn’t be waiting for each case I present you.”

Once more, the expression on the Russian’s face darkened, clear that this round had been won by Peggy Carter. There was a certain satisfaction that came with it, really. Constant challenge was a given with them, and as much as it sparked annoyance within her, there was also a certain excitement that followed. Still, it seemed like their little game of cat-and-mouse never really got to a close, leaving future interactions always unforeseeable.

Finally, she moved once more, this time completely turning towards the woman, the folder tossed in her direction and landing directly on her lap, where she watched Dottie’s slender fingers immediately opening it in a slow but smooth motion, blue eyes set on Peggy’s features for a moment before she cast them down on the sheet in front of her.

“This doesn’t look like another case,” she noticed, her eyes now filled with something that could only be described as a mixture of confusion and excitement.  
“It’s not.” Two simple words that only confirmed what the Russian had already stated, followed by three more that could change everything. “It’s an offer.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't quite know how many chapters this story will have yet, but I'm aiming for about 20, I think. I'll also do my very best to upload weekly, depending on how busy my schedule is.
> 
> Thanks for reading, and please consider leaving a comment c:


	2. Settling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back!!
> 
> Originally, I had planned on uploading it always on the same weekday, however, I have decided to have that weekday be the Sunday of every week, so the second chapter is now back a little bit earlier than originally planned. Starting from now, I'll do my very best to upload every Sunday (:
> 
> Massive thank you once again to my beta Rita (sovietspy here on AO3), who is the real superstar of this fic with the way she's putting up with me and my crazy ideas and whims and helps me turn them into what you guys end up reading in the end!
> 
> Enjoy!

“An offer?” Dottie repeated, somewhat surprised at the notion.  
"It's not an offer as you know it — more like a 'take it or you'll stay in this hole and rot in it for the rest of your life'," Peggy responded, a light shrug following, as if completely indifferent as to which option the other woman might choose.  
She could see the Russian’s expression darken just a little, defiance starting to shimmer in those blue eyes of hers.  
“It’s not like I have much of a _choice_ then, do I?” Dottie almost spat out.  
“Oh, you do. It’s just a question of making the _right_ one.”  
“What does your _offer_ entail then, exactly?”  
“Doesn’t it all say that in the file?” Peggy raised her brows, earning her a smirk from the other woman.  
“Maybe, but I’d rather hear you _say_ it.”

Amusement started making its way across the Englishwoman’s features. She should have guessed, shouldn’t she? Dottie always had a challenge in store for her, no matter the situation, no matter how far ahead Peggy was. She had to admit, in a way she liked the way Dottie’s mind worked, it was different to anything she had ever seen prior to meeting her. It was interesting, and yes, horrifying at times, and yet there was something about it that was so very intriguing.

“Alright,” she finally agreed, the English accent accompanying her words ever present.

 

* * *

 

 _“You want her to work for you?!”_  
_“Daniel—”_  
_“Peggy, have you ever thought about what kind of_ consequences _could come with that?” he asked, the agitated tone in his voice making his disapproval hard to miss._  
_“I have, actually. I still believe her skills could be of great use for us.”_  
_"And with_ us _you mean—”_  
_“The_ Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division. _”_  
_"You gotta find a better name for that, no one’s going to remember that.”_  
_“We’re working on it.” Peggy rolled her eyes._  
_“But that’s_ besides _the point, getting Dottie Underwood on your team is sheer madness!”_  
_“Have you forgotten how broad the range of her skillset is?” she asked, arms now crossing in front of her chest._  
_“No, and that’s exactly my point. Who says she won’t use it against you? Who says she won’t turn on you first chance she gets and ruin your whole organization?”_  
_“Daniel, I’ve been getting her intel on different cases for the past year, and—”_  
_“I’m sorry, you_ what _?!” He was getting more riled up by the second and with every breath that passed, making it hard for her to try and reason with him. “Why is this the first time I’m hearing about this?”_  
_“This! This is exactly why! This whole conversation and you not trusting me enough to believe I know what I’m doing!”_  
_“Do you?” he asked._  
_“Excuse me?”_  
_"—know what you’re doing? This is Dottie Underwood we’re talking about, the woman who almost got you killed, and you’re just wandering into her cell, sharing highly confidential things with her!”  
“That wasn’t— I did not _ wander _into her cell! I wanted to test if she could be trusted and if she’s cut out for the job.” Frustration was slowly taking over, her brows creasing and anger settling in her veins. Why couldn’t he understand that Dottie could be of great use for her?_

 _“No one knows Dottie like I do,” she continued. “I’m not saying I’m expecting everything to go smoothly. What I’m saying is I want her on the team, because I think she could be of great value. Her skills are wasted in that cell and, from what I’ve seen, she wants to do something. She’s desperate for some sort of work, and perhaps I can use that for my advantage. If I can get her to cooperate and work with me completely, she’ll stay. If not, she’ll go back in her cell.”_  
_Maybe, she had to admit, at times she could be too stubborn for her own good. Perhaps her stubbornness was one of the things that had eventually cost her her relationship with Daniel. However, for the first time in a while, this was something she was completely sure of, that, no matter how much of a risk it was, it was worth giving it a shot and giving Dottie this offer._  
_“It could be something that will save the lives of our people. If things do go south, we’ll have someone whose loss won’t hit the agency as hard. She’s expendable, losing her would be more about losing her skillset.”_

_Daniel nodded along with those words coming from her, signalizing Peggy that he finally seemed to have seen a valid point in what she had tried to explain. She could spot a glimpse of admiration in his eyes and knowing exactly what was going on in his head; remembering his words, said months ago when they were still together (but already drifting apart), telling her that being part of this organization finally let her live up to all the potential that's been wasted during their time in the S.S.R.. The corners of her mouth rose in the slightest of ways, the smile not more than a passing moment, as a sigh passed the lips of the former chief of the Los Angeles unit of the S.S.R., seemingly realizing that it had no use trying to go against her when she had already made up her mind._

_“You know, Peggy, just because we didn’t work out as a couple doesn’t mean I don’t still care about you. I’m just worried you’re getting in over your head.”  
_ _"I know, Daniel.” She nodded, her features going softer again. “And just because we’re not together anymore doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate it. But I do believe I can handle this.”_

 

* * *

  
Calmly, Peggy explained everything the offer entailed to the Russian. Perhaps, in a way, Dottie was the guinea pig in all this, testing out the organization with someone like her on the team, as one of their first field agents.

“Of course, you can't hope for absolute freedom. Howard Stark has developed a new piece of technology for this. A tracking device, something that won’t be able to be taken off, so you’ll be under 24-hour-surveillance. The bright side is your potential won't go to waste and you will be working under me, not any kind of suit.”

The whole time, the Russian’s expression was close to unreadable. There was a sense of curiosity lying in her features, mixed with a certain amount of defiance and mischief, and perhaps, in a way, hope. Peggy was sure that she was undoubtedly analyzing her words to the best of her abilities, trying to find some sort of loophole in what she said, yet so far apparently not finding one. However, the second she mentioned the tracking device, she could see a hint of annoyance appearing in the Russian’s expression, that was immediately replaced by a dirty, moderately smug smirk as soon as Peggy got to the end of her speech.

“Well, I can’t pass on an opportunity to work _under you,_ can I, Peg?” she asked, ice blue eyes sparkling impishly.

Peggy cringed at those words combined with the teasing tone of voice the Russian has chosen, mentally slapping herself for her own poor choice of words. She should have known Dottie would pick up on that. However, that thought was quickly replaced by another, more important one. She seemed to be on the right track, seemed to slowly succeed in pulling her on her side. After all, this was what she wanted, wasn’t it? This was what she had intended on doing; getting her to work with her, letting Dottie know that, yes, they would be working side by side. Not as equals, but next to one another nonetheless. And if Peggy was right, that would be a big factor in the question if they could keep Dottie in line or not.

“I assume that’s a yes then?” she asked, skillfully ignoring the woman’s previous words.  
“What if I refuse to do whatever it is you tell me to do?”  
“Then you’ll go back in this cell and will rot here for the rest of your life. This is a one-time-offer. No second chances. If you happen to mess it up, that’s it,” she explained in a matter-of-factly manner. “So? What will it be?”

 

* * *

   
“And this is—”  
“The lounge…,” Dottie interrupted, not for the first time, as she stepped into the room, completing Peggy’s sentence, a rather bored expression resting on her features.  
“How did you—?” Peggy furrowed her brows, yet not able to complete her question, as she was once again so rudely interrupted by the Russian.  
“Oh, Peg, and here I thought you knew that, on a mission, having information about the person you’re targeting is one of the most vital things? I’ve been here before.”  
“Perhaps I should let you do the tour around the house then, as you seem to know it better than I do,” she huffed in return. It wasn’t the first room that the other woman had correctly named, and from what Peggy had seen, there was neither a lot of surprise, nor a lot of examining coming from her.

Admittedly, there were at least a dozen things she’d rather do than giving Dottie a tour around the house she would be sharing with her. But with Angie (quite ironically, if you think about it) having moved to Los Angeles for an acting job right after Peggy had come back to New York, the house had felt quite empty for the past few months. And while Peggy sure could think of at least ten people she’d rather share this house with, she supposed it was convenient like this, at least for now. At least like this, she could keep an eye on the Russian, even when she wasn’t at work. And perhaps, in a way, she’d also be able to help her adjust to a kind of life she wasn’t yet used to.

“Now that you say it, Peg, maybe I should give you a tour around the house.”

 _Oh, no._ The grin immediately tugging at the corners of the Russian’s lips told Peggy that whatever she was thinking about right now, she wasn’t going to like it. Still, curiosity took over, and with a gesture of her hands, she signalized her to lead the way, a challenging brow rising slightly. However, when she realized where she was taking her, dread was taking over, knowing exactly that the next thing falling from Dottie’s lips would be another quite inappropriate joke. The master bedroom wasn’t exactly one of the rooms she would have taken Dottie to, seeing as currently _she_ was the one residing in it. Brown eyes followed the woman’s steps as they step into the room, watching her head straight towards the closet.

“Dottie,” she warned, feeling her cheeks starting to burn, completely certain that a crimson red color was slowly tinting her skin. She had meant to get rid of the content of said closet, had wanted to throw the various costumes out, that had undoubtedly been used for _different_ things than going undercover by Howard, but with the new organization and trying to establish it being a job that kept her on her feet seven days a week, she hadn’t found the time quite yet. However, right at this moment, she swore to herself it would be the first thing she did once she got even a short moment of free time.The last thing she had expected had been the need to prepare for a scenario, in which a Russian spy with a knack for dirty humor and double meanings would all of a sudden decide to show her a closet full of rather dubious outfits that belonged to a genius scientist-millionaire (who, possibly, managed to invent some kind of perpetual motion machine for his lower parts, knowing how much he slept around) with a weakness for women and only god knows what else.  
The situation was surreal to say the least, and even with following the woman towards the closet and catching up with her quite quickly, she couldn’t stop her from opening the door to the closet, watching her pull out a rather indecent, short nurse outfit and put it to her own body, turning around towards Peggy, the impish grin still in place.

“This house has a _great_ collection of outfits for spy work in the field,” she notes, the tone in her voice sweet and seemingly innocent, yet the mischievous glint visible in her eyes making it obvious that wasn’t what was really going on in the back of her mind.

The burning of the Englishwoman’s cheeks felt hotter and hotter by the second, the red color of her face turning a slightly deeper shade, before she finally snapped, quickly snatching the outfit out of the woman’s hand and throwing it onto the bed, which earned her a rather surprised look from the Russian that quickly turned into a joking pout as Peggy’s fingers wrapped around her wrist rather roughly, pulling her along and out of the room.

“I believe we’re done with the house tour,” she remarked sharply. “I’m going to show you something you _haven’t_ seen yet.” For a moment, she was absolutely certain that there was no possible way the other woman would know where exactly she would take her. A thought that got erased just as quickly as it had appeared.  
“Let me guess: next you’re going to show me the headquarters of your little organization,” she said with a smirk, making it completely clear to Peggy that she knew she was right about it.  

But not only that, with the way those words left the Russian’s lips, it almost seemed like there was something else she knew, it almost suggested that, even with Peggy’s new organization, Dottie would be the one doing the showing around, her words combined with the expression on her face making Peggy question if maybe she was already aware of the structure of everything ahead of them. But that couldn’t be the case. Or could it? She glanced back at the woman, and while Peggy’s own expression had darkened, the Russian’s grin had only gotten wider. And just then, the Englishwoman shook her head about herself, thinking how the other woman still knew exactly how to get under her skin, that now, even if it was just for a second, she had considered something Dottie couldn’t possibly have any idea about.

“Shut up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please consider leaving me some feedback to help me improve further. PLUS it really makes my day. It might also motivate me to make the next chapter a little longer ;)  
> Find me at @predatoryqueers on Tumblr and @xandy_93 on Twitter! c:


	3. S.H.I.E.L.D.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back!
> 
> I'm so sorry this is a little late, my life has been absolutely insane. I'm currently in the middle of a huge transitioning phase with a new job and new place to stay and everything. On top of that I was hit with the flu last week, but have since recovered, thankfully. So between that and worries about where I'm gonna stay and financial worries on top of that, I wasn't really in the right headspace to write. But, I have finally managed to get my shit together to write you this chapter. It's a couple hundred words longer than the last one as well. As always, a big thank you goes out to my beta Rita!
> 
> Also, just a quick note: I'm not quite sure what my next month is going to look like, so the posting schedule will most likely be a bit irregular. But, feel free to just subscribe to the fic and you'll receive update alerts as soon as I post new chapters! :)
> 
> Now, without further ado, enjoy this chapter!

“So, _shield_ ?”  
“I’m sorry?” Peggy looked up from the notes she was scribbling down on a notepad when she heard the familiar voice, seeing the Russian close the door to Peggy’s office behind herself and walk over to her desk, sitting down in a chair on the opposite side of it just a moment later. She scanned her features for a moment, noticing how her whole appearance had changed since the day she had left that cell. Her hair was finally one color again, — back to blonde, just how Peggy had first gotten to know her — and her lips were once again painted in a seductive red. That combined with the way she once again acted and presented herself only showed that being out of that cell was definitely doing her good.  
“ _Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division_ — the initials. You can’t honestly expect me to believe that was an accident? Come on, Peggy, you can do better than that.”

The tilt of the Russian’s head, that was followed by a single brow rising, made it clear to Peggy that she wouldn’t believe whatever story she would come up with about it having been merely a coincidence. But really, why should she care about what Dottie thought? Perhaps she was right, it hadn’t been a coincidence. Internally, Peggy had wanted something about it to link to Steve and the way he had seen the world. She missed him. Every day she was reminded of him, and while she had mostly moved on, his presence was still with her wherever she went. In a way, his views and the way he had treated her, so differently than most others had treated her as a woman in the military, had helped shaping her and make her into the woman she was now. She knew that the world would have been a different place had he not been there to protect it, and now that he was gone, perhaps this organization could somehow make up for the fact that he wasn’t with them anymore.

She could see the slightly challenging glint in the woman’s eyes, however, for now she elected to ignore it and go with the sincere answer, however unexpected that might be for the Russian.

“I’m not going to lie to you and pretend you’re wrong, Dottie, if that is what you’re waiting for. We’re not enemies anymore,” she said calmly, putting her pen down next to the notebook and resting her lower arms on the desk, lacing her fingers together, warm brown eyes examining the woman’s features, that, at this point, had clear surprise about the Englishwoman’s honesty written all over them. “Captain Steve Rogers was a great many things, his values having been something incredibly special to this country and the entire world. This organization has been built with those values in mind. So, yes, there was a certain intention behind the name.”

It had been about a month now since she had first given Dottie the offer of becoming an agent under her. The first couple of weeks had made her consider a lot of things. She wondered, if maybe it had been the wrong choice; that Howard probably needed a better security system for the mansion after Dottie had set off the alarm several times — by accident or on purpose, most likely the latter, yet both equally irritating. Especially when the alarm had blasted at 2 o’clock in the morning during the very first night having Dottie in the house, finding her in a rather compromising position about one hundred yards away from the house, making it quite obvious to Peggy that Dottie had disregarded her warning about how her tracking device made it impossible for her to move further away from the house than said amount. For a short while during the first week, when a situation like that had repeated itself twice, the Englishwoman had even considered handcuffing Dottie for the night, yet had quickly disregarded the thought when she had remembered that that had exactly been what she had gone through every night as a child. No, Peggy wasn’t like that. Perhaps she needed to keep the Russian in line, but those were measures she wouldn’t take, especially given the fact that earning her trust was vital to getting her to work with her the way she wanted her to in the end. And as time passed, it became more and more clear that Dottie’s intend wasn’t quite about actually escaping, as much as it was about testing Peggy herself, teasing in that little bit of a sadistic manner of hers. The Englishwoman herself was getting only half as much sleep as she was used to before she had decided to share her house with a spy, now that she had to constantly be aware of Dottie’s whereabouts around the house and its surroundings, especially with her making it her mission to be as non-subtle about her nightly wanderings around the house as possible.

And even within the _Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division_ (yes, they really had to somehow come up with something shorter), things hadn’t turned out quite as smoothly as Peggy had hoped they would. With weary and intense looks she got from several agents, she almost felt like a brave, yet reckless trainer, walking among the audience with a dangerous animal by her side. Fully aware that that had to stop, she soon decided to classify all information on Dottie in her file, Level 9 clearance required for access.  
  
However, even _trying_ to get the Russian get used to the other agents and vice versa had proven to be a rather difficult thing to do. Trying to put her in the main workspace area among them hadn’t worked and trying to warn her to maybe not necessarily speak about murder ( or how taking a target out would most likely be the easiest solution to whatever problem they had) hadn’t exactly helped either. Instead, the Russian somehow, on purpose or by accident, Peggy wasn’t sure, kept finding new ways to make the agents around her worried and uncomfortable. In the end, Peggy had made the ultimate sacrifice and gave up on time to herself entirely, as she moved Dottie’s table into her own office. Perhaps, she thought, that had been part of the other woman’s plan all along, yet if there was one thing she couldn’t do, it was compromising the ability of her agents to work on the cases she assigned them with. The things she did for her country and its people!

 

* * *

 

“It’s S.H.I.E.L.D.!”  
“You’ve finally lost me now, Peg.”  
“Really, Howard, for a genius you really have _quite_ the reaction time sometimes.”  
“What can I say?” A smirk started tugging at his lips. “Resisting the color red has never been a big strength of mine,” he noted, his gaze now wandering to one of the women in the cafe, earning him a wave from the rather attractive redhead.  
“Clearly. If you’re quite done letting your second brain get the better of you, I’d appreciate it if your attention was directed back to me.”  
“You always have my attention, you know that. So what was that about a shield?”  
“Not _a_ shield. S.H.I.E.L.D. as in the _Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division._ ”  
“Well, you always said you needed a shorter name for it,” he responded, his eyes still glued to the woman who was, for whatever reason, apparently quite charmed by him.  
“Is that all you have to say about that?” The annoyance that came with the tone of Peggy’s voice was crystal clear, yet once again he didn’t really seem to notice. But should she really be surprised?

Admittedly, the only reason she had really wanted to tell him was him being one of her co-founders, but she should have known he wouldn’t really have an opinion on whatever name they decided on, unless it was a clear innuendo. Perhaps that would have gotten his attention in the end. A disbelieving shake of her head followed. At times she wondered if he even remembered being one of the main reasons the organizations actually came to be. At least the work he was doing seemed to be more focusing on his own little projects with some new toys he was working on, instead of actually focusing on any of the things you’d expect a co-founder to do.

“You kids have fun, let me know if there’s something more substantial I can help with,” he responded, confirming Peggy’s thoughts within the blink of an eye. “By the way,” he continued, eyebrows rising in a way that told Peggy whatever was coming next couldn't be good. “How’s your little protege doing?” The smirk once again making its way all the way across his features was only showing her that the real reason he was asking was neither to find out how Peggy was dealing with her, nor to hear about her progress within the agency. Something about that didn’t sit right with her. Perhaps it was his grin when he asked that, or perhaps it was the fact that Peggy knew exactly that the Russian had only ever let him close because it had been of use to her and her mission. Still, she was absolutely certain about one thing: she highly doubted that Dottie would ever let him that close again.

“ _She_ is none of your concern.”

 

* * *

 

It had taken a while for Peggy to actually get used to having the Russian around, to sharing her space with her, including work space and living space. It didn’t really help that whenever she got the chance, Dottie would test her limits in ways Peggy would have never imagined she would when she had first decided to give her the offer to work alongside her. More than once over the course of the past three months, Peggy had debated if maybe putting her back in the cell would be a good idea, but then there was also that undeniable progress the Russian was making, which then led Peggy to believe that perhaps she really was trying to finally do what the Englishwoman originally wanted her to do. Her willingness to cooperate finally started to seem more genuine, seven weeks after the last escape attempt.

A lot of the time, still, no matter the progress, being around her was close to unbearable. Cocky remarks followed by insufferable smirks, the whole thing combined with a certain arrogance, knowing she herself had been the final piece in the puzzle to give this organization their new and shortened name — S.H.I.E.L.D. — all of that was a rather explosive mixture. The only time Peggy could actually stand being around her for more than five minutes was when Dottie was getting completely focused during their training sessions. Given the fact that most other agents stayed as far away from the Russian as possible, it was up to Peggy to keep her skills sharp and clear, resulting in her becoming the opposing party in sparring sessions that more often than not ended with several bruises. While she was bearable most of the time, being completely concentrated on Peggy’s moves, and while they were mostly an even match, a lot of the times the Englishwoman would sooner rather than later find herself on the floor once more, pinned to the ground with the mischievous grin staring back at her that had her annoyed within the span of two seconds. And yet Peggy herself after a while found these sessions to be a good stress relief after stressful days within the organization, especially with Dottie continuing to insist Peggy shouldn’t hold back.

At first, Peggy had been skeptical, she had been uncomfortable. After all, this wasn’t a real fight. It was training, simple sparring sessions to keep the mind sharp. But it had soon become obvious that she could learn a thing or two from the very broad repertoire of a Russian spy who had grown up learning everything she was using in a fight. Perhaps she herself wasn’t going to use Dottie’s methods in their raw and unpolished version (although, Dottie might have argued against the Englishwoman having called them unpolished, knowing that they made her extremely dangerous and about just as deadly), but it gave her even more of a look into how she thought and acted, and admittedly, being able to study the way someone who had gotten these things drilled into their mind from their very childhood wasn’t something she’d pass on.  
Soon, they were so well attuned in their movements with and against one another that it got harder and harder for either party to quickly gain the upper hand, resulting in training sessions that lasted longer and longer.

“My, my, _Peggy,_ you need to step up your game!”

Peggy could practically hear the smirk plastered on the other woman’s features, even while being slightly bent over and hands resting on her knees, trying to catch her breath after a solid twenty minutes of going at one another without a break.

“I’m not as young as I used to be, _Agent Underwood_ ,” she shot back as a quip, a small grin of her own making its way across her features. Agent Underwood. Perhaps it had already been three months, yet there was a part of Peggy that still got used to that. To her, she was still Dottie.  
“Oh, Peg, and here I thought we had already passed at _least_ second base,” Dottie teased, earning her an eyeroll from the Englishwoman, before she continued speaking. “You know, an enemy won’t let you catch your breath that easily. Or are you going to tell me you’re too old for this with your, what, twenty-six years? Perhaps your retirement is in order.”

Dottie was right. It was a good thing they weren’t enemies anymore. They had been, over a year ago, during a time that counted as one of the darker times in Peggy Carter’s life. A time where she had still been mourning Steve Rogers, a time where she had just been learning to move on, and a time where the S.S.R. treating her like a mere secretary more than the agent she was had been the norm. But that was in the past now, both of them had changed, both of them were still changing. And truthfully, one and a half years ago, had one asked Peggy Carter if she could ever imagine herself working alongside Dottie Underwood, she would most likely have laughed in their face. Oh, how the times changed.

A snort passed the Englishwoman’s lips as her hands moved to her own hips and lower back, bending slightly backwards and against her hands to stretch her back, before taking a proper stance in front of her.  
“Twenty-six is pushing it, Dottie. I’m only two years shy of thirty, though at times I already start feeling like a fifty-year-old woman. I’ll be retired before I know it,” she grinned, taking a step closer and raising both her fists in defense, going in for a quick swing in hopes to catch her off-guard.

It seemed, however, that no matter what she did, Dottie was always more than prepared. Admirable in a way, really. And so, she used the momentum of Peggy’s punch, causing a gasp to leave the Englishwoman’s lips, as it inevitably ended with her back hitting the mat with a groan following, a grinning Russian standing above her and looking down at her.

“You’re right, _shockingly_ old.” The amusement was practically dripping from those teasing words as sparkling blue eyes and the way her lips curled upwards were the sole witness of one word being written all over her features: _fun._ Peggy remembered so clearly the way Dottie had used the word fun in the past, all of those situations having called for terms completely opposite of what she had thought of as entertaining, but she supposed when you grew up the way the Russian had, there was a certain sense of coping in trying to find enjoyment where there was none. This, however, was sincere. Or at least Peggy believed it was.

“Thank you for the boost of confidence,” Peggy groaned, a small chuckle following. “Good move, but I think you’ve broken my entire back.”  
“I’ll make sure to let you get on top next time, _Director_ ,” she heard her respond in that sweet, yet somewhat sultry tone of voice that she only ever seemed to take on when she was talking to Peggy. Admittedly, there was part of Peggy that wondered if perhaps she had just never seen her take it on with anyone else, if maybe she was indeed using this particular tone of voice for others when Peggy _wasn’t_ around. Or was it perhaps only reserved for her?

Oh, there it was again. That insufferable smirk, and then all of that followed by Peggy’s title — Peggy could see that Dottie was enjoying all of this far too much. And maybe that was exactly what set her off, causing her to take action, shifting in a way that had her own legs pull Dottie’s feet away from under her, leading to Dottie’s body hitting the mat with a loud thump. Peggy took action, immediately shifting on top of her, one leg on either side of Dottie’s body as she kneeled, hovering above her and pinning her to the ground, hands placed on either side of Dottie’s collarbones to keep her in check. And for once, Peggy was the one smirking down at the woman.

“ _Oops_ ,” she said innocently, almost looking theatrically guiltless.

Still trying to catch her breath, she looked down at the woman, noticing how her chest rose and fell with each deep, heavy breath she took. Warm brown eyes almost completely automatically took in the Russian’s striking features; the way her blonde hair framed her face and brought out the blue of her sparkling eyes, her sharp cheekbones that melted into the soft curve of her lips, even the way her throat moved with the way she swallowed just now as Peggy looked at her — it caused the Englishwoman herself to swallow harshly, her tongue darting out just the tiniest bit to wetten dry lips slightly.  
She noticed blue eyes widening to some extent —hardly noticeable, yet visible to Peggy—, leaving a sort of honest, almost unreadable expression on the Russian’s face that Peggy had never quite seen like this before — a flicker of vulnerability, something Dottie for once didn’t manage to hide immediately. All of that caused Peggy to feel a strange sense of warmth rising up in her chest, her heartbeat gaining speed with each pulse, and she felt herself unable to tear her gaze away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's going to happen? Find out in the next chapter ;)  
> Thank you for reading & please leave a comment, they always make my day and I love the feedback I'm getting!
> 
> Find me under @predatoryqueers on Tumblr and under @xandy_93 on Twitter! c:


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